


reckless, not reason

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kinda), (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Arranged Marriage, Asexual Character, Asexual Dean Winchester, Asexual Realization, Concubine Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester's Appallingly Low Self Esteem, Dragon Dean, Dragons, First Kiss, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Magic, Modern Royalty, Prince Dean, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “When I requested a — you know. ‘Companion.’ I was just being selfish,” Dean says. “So fucking selfish that I didn’t even think about what it would be like for you.”“Don’t worry,” Cas says, almost as if from outside himself. “It was either you or someone else. Perhaps someone worse.”“It’s a big deal to my dad for me to get mated. He’s always trying to match me with some asshole or another, and I — I can’t, Cas.” He drops his head into his hands, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “I’m fucked up, I guess, because I just — I can’t be a mate to someone, not for real. I can’t — consummate, or whatever.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 51
Kudos: 434
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	reckless, not reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [profound-boning (farawaystardust)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/gifts).



> inspired by an ace prompt from profound-boning involving creatures and arranged marriage. 
> 
> with gratitude to oriana and jemariel for their help. 
> 
> _Love is reckless; not reason.  
>  Reason seeks a profit.  
> Love comes on strong,  
> consuming herself, unabashed._  
> rumi, mathnawi VI

Cas is always awake before Dean, but he’s glad to be able to doze on and off for a bit. The lazy mornings of sleeping in feel luxurious in themselves, but even more so in the prince’s expansive bed, so soft it feels like floating. 

Dean always makes a soft noise of dismay as he comes up from dreams. He always shoves the blankets off and rolls over to his stomach. He always sighs and mumbles, “Mornin’.” 

“Good morning,” Cas whispers back. He’s facing away, but he knows what Dean looks like: hair akimbo around his horns, lips pink and parted, eyelashes fluttering as he works towards actually opening them. Cas has never seen Dean sharp-edged, but mornings are the only time he’s this soft. 

Cas grabs his phone off the nightstand to text Benny. He requests breakfast in half an hour, banana pancakes and eggs over easy. Cas hasn’t yet worked up the nerve to ask for something other than what Dean’s eating, though he would really prefer scrambled. 

“Pancakes in thirty minutes,” Cas says. 

“Cool,” Dean says. He groans as he stretches, his back cracking. “Let’s do something fun today.” 

Cas turns over to see him, and Dean gives him a quiet smile. Moments like this, it’s easy to forget what they are. Easy to forget about the ring Cas wears that shows he belongs to Dean. It’s nothing like a wedding ring; he wears it on his index finger. 

“Like what?” Cas says. 

“Dunno. Don’t want to fuck with security, maybe hiking? That place up north.” 

“You’ll just complain the whole time,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. 

Dean huffs out a laugh. “I’ll only complain a little, I promise. I just need to get out of here for awhile.” 

“Go shower and we can go after breakfast.” 

“Aww, Cas. Do you think I’m stinky?” 

“Sometimes.” 

Dean groans and stumbles out of bed. Cas’s eyes, as usual, catch on the sheen of emerald scales on the back of his neck, spreading under his shirt. Dean has more scales than many dragons, it seems, piebald patchwork draped down his back, splashes across his thighs, the large area over one hip. Dean is self-conscious about it, but Cas thinks dragons would be rather beautiful if he wasn’t enslaved in their territory. 

Dean is quick and comes out of the bathroom along with a steamy wake of pomegranate scent. He’s getting more lax about his state of dress around Cas and only has a towel wrapped around his middle while he rummages through his closet. 

Yes, he’s beautiful, but Cas doesn’t have to like it. 

Like always, Cas says very little through breakfast. Benny, the house chef, sits next to Dean and they chatter animatedly, Benny stealing a good share of the bacon. Cas wasn’t brought here to interrupt Dean; he was brought here to serve him. He just hasn’t figured out in what capacity yet. 

Both of them know they’ve never truly gone off-the-grid — Dean’s security team is watching and listening while they’re in the car, and they can still track the location of the phones and, of course, Cas’s ring — but it’s nice to pretend that they’re sneaking out. 

Dean turns up the music loud and sings louder on the drive to the park, and then it’s just silence as they start down the trail. The silence stretches far longer than it would usually take for Dean to start complaining, but he still says nothing. 

A couple of miles down the trail, there’s a place where the trees open up and there’s a spot to look out over the river below. They always stop there for a moment, Dean sitting on a large rock and throwing chips of limestone over the edge. Cas sips at his water bottle. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. He says it at a normal volume, but it snaps the silence like a shout. 

“For what?” Cas says, looking over. The sun is shining down on Dean in a way that shows off the dapples of freckles across his cheeks and the shimmer of a couple of random scales along his jaw. 

“When I requested a — you know. ‘Companion.’ I was just being selfish,” Dean says. “So fucking selfish that I didn’t even think about what it would be like for you.” 

“Don’t worry,” Cas says, almost as if from outside himself. “It was either you or someone else. Perhaps someone worse.” 

“It’s a big deal to my dad for me to get mated. He’s always trying to match me with some asshole or another, and I — I can’t, Cas.” He drops his head into his hands, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “I’m fucked up, I guess, because I just — I can’t be a mate to someone, not for real. I can’t — consummate, or whatever.” 

Cas tilts his head, squinting. “I wondered what you were waiting for.” 

“I can’t exactly pair off like this, you know? And I can’t tell anyone that I’m like this either. So I just — my dad said his friend had some humans available, and I said I wanted one. Jesus, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok,” Cas says. “Like I said. Perhaps someone worse.” 

“I have a friend who can change the ring limitations without anyone knowing,” Dean says. “So you can do… whatever you want. Go wherever you want. The ring won’t stop you.” 

“I’ll need to join you at night, though.” 

Dean cringes. “Yeah. But I swear I won’t ever touch you.” 

“Just because you can’t get hard doesn’t mean you can’t touch me.” 

“What?!” Dean says, eyes widening. “That’s not it.” He takes a careful breath. “I just — I don’t like — I can’t, ok?” 

“Are you asexual?” Cas asks, then clarifies at Dean’s puzzled expression, “Someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction. Like, they aren’t interested or don’t like sex. That’s what we call it at home, at least.” 

Dean stares at him for a silent moment, eyes searching Cas’s. “There are people like that?” 

“Yes. I’ve known asexual people.” 

Dean stands suddenly. “We better get going,” he says, even though there is no schedule or even destination. 

Cas follows, and they don’t speak again all the way home, though Dean does give him a small smile at a stoplight. Cas finds a smile to give him back. 

The static of magic wakes Cas from a deep, dreamless sleep. It makes the hairs on his arms stand up and his heart stutter. He looks over, and the scales on the back of Dean’s neck are somehow shining, even though it’s dark except for pale moonlight filtered through curtains. 

Dean cries out and another crackle follows right after. “Dean?” Cas says. He doesn’t respond, so Cas hesitantly reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Dean, wake up.” 

Dean goes tense all over, takes a sharp breath, and the air goes flat like the eerie eye of a storm. Cas can feel him trembling. 

“Dean,” Cas says again, softer, and he moves a little closer. They’re not touching except Cas’s hand on Dean’s shoulder, but the space between his chest and Dean’s back isn’t much more than a whisper. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean rasps. 

“Bad dream?”

“Yeah.” 

Cas hesitates, then says, “Can I hug you?” 

“Um. Sure?” 

Dean’s tense when Cas moves closer, and Cas thinks now it’s more the potential touch and not the dream. Still, he shifts until his chest is against Dean’s back, then wraps an arm around his middle and squeezes for a moment. Dean stays stiff and there’s an apology in Cas’s mouth, then suddenly everything sighs out of Dean until he’s melted into Cas’s embrace. 

Cas thinks Dean probably never has an opportunity to be touched. Then again, neither does Cas. They both go through life subsisting on nothing but handshakes or a hand clapped onto a shoulder. But here Dean is, so warm in his arms. 

Dean doesn’t say anything, but tentatively, he lays his hand over Cas’s and holds it flat against his chest, and then he presses backwards, so there isn’t even a hush between them. Cas finds himself nuzzling against the back of Dean’s neck. He expected the scales to be rough to the touch, but instead they’re smooth and almost soft. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispers. He’s not glowing anymore. 

“You’re welcome,” Cas says, barely stopping himself from kissing that pretty curve where Dean’s neck becomes his shoulder. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” 

“Maybe, if you — if you don’t mind —”

Cas knows Dean won’t be able to find the words, so he squeezes him tight and says, “Of course.” 

This is how Cas can serve Dean. He can hold him close at night. He can squeeze his hand while they netflix. Cas can hug him when Dean is exhausted or defeated after a phone call with his father. 

Cas isn’t sure when he stopped thinking of the King as  _ the King  _ and instead as  _ Dean’s father.  _ Maybe about the time he overheard part of one of their conversations, overheard the things Dean’s father has drilled into Dean about his worthlessness. His father is why Dean looks skeptical at even the barest of compliments.

Anyone who speaks like that to their son — especially someone as  _ good  _ as Dean — isn’t worth respecting, as royalty or even a man at all. Dean’s father hasn’t visited since Cas was delivered, which is good because Cas isn’t sure he’ll be able to contain his fury now. 

Which means one afternoon he finds Dean laying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “John’s coming next week,” he says, without looking at Cas. 

Cas sits on the edge of the bed next to Dean, resting his hand on Dean’s stomach. “You don’t look happy.” 

“First of all, it’s a pain in the ass. You know how fucking annoying the security is around here, and it’s a hundred times worse with him.” Dean winces. “And he’s going to be such an asshole to you. I’ll try to keep him away —” 

“Dean, I can handle your father.” 

Dean rubs a hand over his face and lays the other one on Cas’s knee. “I’m sorry. He’s not going to treat you like you deserve.” 

Cas pushes at Dean to lay next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Not everyone is like you. Not everyone here thinks I’m a person at all.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says again, like he carries the weight of generations of cruel leaders on his shoulders. “It’s not even like I’m any better. I mean, Jesus, I brought you here.” 

“If it wasn’t you, it still would have been  _ someone,  _ and likely not someone kind.” Cas laces his fingers with Dean’s between them. He’s never asked before, and is still a little afraid of the answer, but he says it anyway. “Why did you pick me?” 

“I’m not sure,” Dean says, rubbing his thumb across Cas’s knuckles aimlessly. “Honestly, I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about — who to choose. I just wanted to get it over with. But when I came to your profile, I didn’t even look at the rest.” 

Cas nods. Were the situations reversed, he would have chosen Dean, and he wouldn’t be able to articulate why. “Was I the wrong choice?” 

“There wasn’t a right choice, because no one should be picked out of a goddamn catalogue. You should be at home with your family.” 

“I don’t think I ever told you how I ended up in that catalogue,” Cas says. “My father was a gambler and had to sell me to settle a bet. He didn’t have anything else of worth.” 

Cas can feel Dean staring at him. “When you were a kid? Your father sold his  _ kid _ to pay a debt?” 

“It was either me or him, and he never liked me much anyway.” 

“Christ, that’s fucked up. And — I don’t know how someone could not like you. I mean.” Curiously, Dean is blushing. “I only know one other person as cool as you. You might be better, actually, but I don’t want that getting back to her.” 

He knows  _ her  _ is the friend that hacked Cas’s ring, but Dean hasn’t ever identified her by name. She’s listed as  _ Her Majesty  _ in Dean’s phone. “Is she prettier than me?” Cas says, raising an eyebrow. 

“No.” Dean sits up, dropping Cas’s hand. “I’m gonna go help Benny with dinner. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

Prince Winchester’s  _ estate  _ is a disgusting statement of wealth and influence. The main house sprawls like a resort, enough so that Cas hasn’t even seen the entire thing, and he hasn’t spent a lot of time exploring the grounds either. He doesn’t want to think about the way people will look at him, identifying him immediately as a stranger in a strange land, wearing the prince’s ring. 

But he’s also starting to lose his mind, feeling like he’s quarantined in Dean’s home, which is out of sight of the main house, probably originally built for the groundskeeper or some other servant and their family, or perhaps intended for in-laws. It’s still nicer than any of Cas’s previous captors’ homes — any home he’s ever been in, really. 

There are several golf carts in the garage. Dean is gone, the space where his Impala is usually parked looking strangely empty where it usually makes a mockery of the carts. It only takes a minute for Cas to figure out how to drive one, and then he’s off on the single-lane road that snakes through trees and meadows on the property. 

It’s pretty. Birds are singing, and Cas thinks he sees a woodpecker among the leaves. And then he definitely hears a horse whinnying not far ahead, and he follows the sound. Prince Winchester’s estate apparently includes stables, though Dean has never mentioned it. 

Cas parks the cart in front of the green barn. There are a few horses grazing in the paddock next to it, but Cas is stopped by a pony-tailed blonde before he makes it over to the fence. Her horns are painted red, and her nails probably would be, too, if she didn’t work with her hands. 

“Lookie there,” she says. “Dean’s pet human.” 

This is why Cas doesn’t leave Dean’s place, and he takes a step back, but a grin breaks out on her face and she slaps his shoulder good-naturedly. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m Jo.” 

Jo holds out her hand and they shake in the particular way that’s done in this part of Düqi. She twists their hands at the end in a way that usually denotes friendship, or at least a separation from formality. Cas isn’t sure this has ever happened to him before. 

“Castiel,” he says. “Or — Cas. Dean calls me Cas.” 

“I know,” Jo says. “You like horses? Dean says he hates them, but I think it’s just because they don’t like  _ him.”  _

“I suppose I haven’t met any,” Cas says. 

“Well, I’m grooming the prince’s steed right now if you want me to introduce you.” 

Cas laughs despite himself and follows Jo into the barn. The horse standing in the barn aisle is big and black with four white socks. It bears a striking resemblance to Dean’s car in equine form. 

“This is River,” Jo says. The horse flicks a lazy ear towards them. “You can pet her. She only hates Dean.” 

“I thought you said she was…?” 

“If anyone asks, she is, but Dean hates horses and they hate him.” 

Cas reaches out tentatively to pat River on the nose. “Why are there stables here if he doesn’t like horses?” Cas flushes and drops his eyes. With Dean, it’s easy to forget, but he needs to be careful. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” 

“We’re friends here, Cas. I sure know enough about you,” Jo says, grabbing a brush out of a bucket and passing another one to Cas. “We grew up together, and  _ I  _ like horses, so he made them put in a barn. I’m not saying no to my dream job.” 

“Ah,” Cas says, copying the way Jo is brushing River, long strokes over a gleaming obsidian coat. “Has there been — reporting about me? I never considered I might become tabloid fodder.” 

“You think I read Buzzfeed?” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “Dean talks about you all the time.” 

Cas wants to ask what Dean says, but bites his tongue. 

After a moment of companionable silence, nothing but the birds outside and the shuffling of horse feet on wood shavings, Jo says, not even bothering to hide the bitter, “Excited about seeing John?” 

“Dean doesn’t seem to be,” Cas says, “so I’m not sure why I would.” 

“Good call,” Jo says. “He’s a huge dick. I usually manage to avoid him but you probably can’t.” 

“I assume I’ll be expected to accompany Dean in any — festivities.” 

“Don’t be alone with him,” Jo says, the words rushing out. “John, I mean.” 

Cas looks over at her, though she doesn’t look back. “Ok,” he says. 

Three more strokes of the brush on the round of River’s side, and Jo says, “You want to learn how to ride?” 

King Winchester’s arrival doesn’t involve quite the fanfare Cas expected. The King is in a stupidly flashy car that makes Dean’s baby look like junkyard fodder, surrounded by a motorcade. A cohort of secret service arrived the week before and quietly combed the property for anything suspicious. They did interview Cas, like he’s been sitting around Prince Winchester’s estate waiting for a chance to assassinate the king. 

Not that a similar thought hasn’t crossed his mind. Not because he’s the king, but because of the way Dean has been increasingly anxious and moody as John’s visit approaches, snapping at Cas and even Benny, locking himself in the private library Cas hasn’t even seen, distractedly texting someone else in a way he never does with Cas. Stupidly, Cas hates the way it feels to be ignored by him.

Worse, Cas hates the relief he feels when Dean grab’s Cas’s hand as soon as John’s arrival is announced and doesn’t let go, all the way up until they enter the house and John wrenches him away for a back-clapping hug. 

John steps back, a hand still on Dean’s shoulder, and appraises Cas. “Casteel, is it?” 

“Castiel,” Dean corrects, already sounding tired. 

“Cas-ti-el,” John says, drawing it out. “My boy takin’ care of you?” 

“It’s nice to see you again, Your Majesty,” Cas says, dropping his eyes to the floor. John is in a leather motorcycle jacket, jeans, and shining black boots to match his horns, and Cas focuses there, where the laces are uneven in their bows. “Dean is very kind.” 

Before John can say anything else, Dean says, “Steaks are on the grill. Want to head out back?” 

There’s expensive whiskey that Cas only sips at so his tongue doesn’t get too loose. The food is good, and Dean is less tense when Cas squeezes his knee under the table. 

Plates cleared, another drink in Dean and John’s hands, and John says, “You haven’t mated yet.” 

Cas blinks. He wasn’t prepared for this, thought whatever they’d been doing was what Dean needed to avoid the clutches of arranged mating. Didn’t realize there was more that was expected of him. 

Dean looks down at his drink. “Yeah, well,” he starts, then seems to falter. 

“My people believe that marriage requires an eighteen month courtship, to represent the rebirth of each person before coming together as one.” Steadfastly, Cas doesn’t look over at Dean. “Dean is very kind and has agreed to respect this, so there’s still time.” 

“I can’t believe you said that,” Dean says, gasping with laughter in the sheets. 

Cas flops down next to him, both of them a little tipsy and loose, still dressed and with the taste of drink on their lips. “I can’t either, to be honest,” he says. “I can’t believe he  _ believed _ me.” 

“His  _ face,”  _ Dean says, still laughing, and he’s so, so beautiful, the scales along his cheek glimmering in the pale light, skin flushed pink, eyes bright, and Cas kisses him. 

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up, and then Cas jerks away, hands raised in surrender. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why —” 

“It’s ok,” Dean says, quietly, shutting his eyes. “It’s ok, I can.” Dean lets out a slow breath, reaching for Cas. “I will. For you.” 

“What?” 

Dean tugs Cas close, sliding a hand into the back of his jeans, and starts to kiss along his jaw.

“Wait a second,” Cas says, holding Dean back with a hand in the center of his chest. He can feel Dean’s heart racing. “What are you doing?” 

“Whatever you want,” Dean says. Quiet and tense. 

“I don’t want your hands in my pants, for one thing,” Cas says. 

“Oh,” Dean says, pulling back. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

“I know,” Dean says, a wry smile flashing across his mouth. “You forgot I’m broken.” 

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas says, and it’s his turn to reel Dean in, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulders to hug him close. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different, even yourself.” 

“If you didn’t want to — then why did you…”

“You were smiling, and you were beautiful, and I wanted to,” Cas says. “I didn’t realize you would think I was asking for something other than a kiss. I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“Just a kiss,” Dean says, almost a question, but not quite. 

Cas wasn’t thinking, and hasn’t been a lot lately — he keeps forgetting they’re not just  _ Cas and Dean,  _ but  _ prince and companion, crown and ring.  _ Kissing the prince would be foolish. Kissing Dean is even worse, because Cas truly wants to, and he knows the rejection will catch up to him soon. 

“I used to like kissing, I think,” Dean says, meeting Cas’s eyes for a split second and then dodging away again. 

“Just a kiss,” Cas says, hushed between them. 

Dean nods and doesn’t flinch when Cas cradles his cheek in his palm. There’s this moment where Cas thinks each of them are sure the other is going to back out, but Dean breaks first, brushing his lips against Cas’s. 

Cas wraps fingers around one of Dean’s half-spiral horns to pull him closer for a warm, full kiss. Dean kisses back, and there’s this feeling of cloud-soft in the air, and when Cas opens his eyes, there are a handful of books floating through the room. 

“Oh, shit,” Dean says, and the books fall. Luckily the one that hits Cas is a paperback. “Jesus, I’m sorry. That’s fucking embarrassing.” 

“Can you put them back the same way?” 

Dean flushes but the books float away to make an untidy stack on top of the bookshelf. 

“I’ve only seen you use magic when you have nightmares,” Cas says. 

“Yeah, well. I didn’t want to be the asshole waving it around everywhere, especially since I’m not very good at it.” 

“That was a pretty great trick you just did, and apparently it was subconscious. What can you do when you’re trying?” 

“I’ve always been pretty good at machines, I guess,” Dean says. “So, um. This is pretty stupid, but you asked, so here you go.” 

Dean’s eyes glow spring and it’s hard for Cas to take his gaze off that to look upwards, where the ceiling fan is dissembling itself into separate floating parts. “I won’t drop anything on you this time,” Dean says, and Cas is glad to hear him sounding lighter of heart again. 

The fan reassembles, and then the blades are circling lazily again with the non-magic of electricity. 

“Dean, that’s incredible.” 

Dean shrugs. “It’s not useful for much. I can’t even do anything really big or really small. I tried a watch once but — the  _ tick  _ never sounded quite right after.”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Cas, not  _ prince’s companion,  _ says. “Just being telekinetic is amazing enough, but you can take apart and put back together a watch just like — magic.” 

Dean gives him a bashful smile and says, “Do you want to see this trick I used to play on Sam when he was studying? Choose a letter.” 

“Um,” Cas says, wondering if Dean is going to lapse into mentalist games. “D.” 

A book floats back over and stops just over Cas. Dean says, “Open it. Any page.”

Cas opens towards the end. The page is just white space with  _ Ds _ scattered across. Every letter redacted, except D. He turns the page, then starts to flip through. Every page nothing but the letter D, almost looking haphazard, but Cas knows they aren’t. 

“Do you have a book like this for every letter?” 

“That sounds like a waste of time, that much work when there’s never anyone here to show off to or annoy.” Dean reaches over and shuts the book in Cas’s hands, then opens it again, no longer redacted. “Except now you’re here.” 

Cas shuts the book, Dean’s hand still over his on the spine of it, and looks over. “It’s a blood rite, isn’t it?” 

Dean blinks, like he was lost in another kind of magic, then says, “Um. Mating, you mean? Yeah, it’s — I won’t do that to you. It’s deep magic, and —” his hand falls away, and Cas misses his touch. “I’ll just mate whoever my dad wants, ok? I won’t make you do it.”

“Perhaps you won’t force me, but you _will_ let me.” Pause. “In eleven months, anyway. Once we’ve both been reborn in preparation for our union.” 

Dean bursts into giggles and Cas is pulled along, like always, with the tide of his laughter. 

The remainder of John’s visit passes quickly and largely uneventfully, other than Dean waking up from nightmares more than once each night. Cas kisses his forehead and hugs him close and tells him everything will be ok while his heart slows. 

Still sipping at the last of the morning coffee after John leaves, Dean nudges Cas’s ankle with his foot and says, “I’m going to see the queen today. You wanna come with me?” 

“The queen…?” 

Dean rolls his eyes and gestures. “The one who did your ring.” 

“Oh! I didn’t think I was allowed to meet her.” 

“She’ll have to trust you eventually. I’m the prince so she has to do what I say.” 

Cas chokes down a laugh, because he’s finding out more and more how little the people on the Winchester estate think of Dean’s title. Not just Jo, but Benny, and Ash, who may be the groundskeeper or may just grow weed in one of the corners of the back forty, and Garth, Bess, Kevin — just about everyone who has bothered to introduce themselves to Cas. They like Dean and they respect him, but not any more than they do each other or even Cas. Most of them have even given Cas some version of the  _ if he hurts you, I’ll kill him  _ speech. Someone who can hack the strongest magic and is listed in Dean’s phone as Her Majesty doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. 

Cas has never seen Dean driveanything but the Impala, and he’s never let a bodyguard ride directly with them, but they grab a shiny SUV from the garage of the main house and Benny rides in the backseat during the drive to town. Cas stays silent, never sure how much he should — or shouldn’t — say in front of other people. Silence is safest, so Cas just watches fields dotted by prickly pears pass by the window while Dean and Benny chat aimlessly.

They loop around the city to the east side, cruising into one of the neighborhoods where all the houses were built in the fifties or before. The queen’s home is a bizarre bright pink compared to the neutral houses surrounding it. 

They park on the street, and the front door opens before they even make it to the porch. A swirl of red hair in a Star Wars tee, Wonder Woman socks, and Batman boxers ushers them in before she throws herself at Dean, wrapping him up in a hug. Cas ignores the spike of jealousy when she puts a smacking kiss on his cheek, but it doesn’t leave, even after Benny receives a similar greeting. 

Finally, she’s standing in front of Cas, a hand on each shoulder as she surveys him. “It’s nice to meet you, Castiel,” she says. “Not to be speciesist, but it’s nice to see another human. Has Dean been ok to you? He can be a dickhead.” 

Cas glances over at Dean, who is looking at the floor, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“He’s very kind,” Cas says. 

The queen’s mouth thins and she, too, glances over at Dean and Benny. “Cas and I would like a moment alone,  _ Prince.” _

Dean opens his mouth to protest, then nods and looks down again. “C’mon, Benny. We’ll go around back.” 

Cas gives Dean a wide-eyed look but is ignored. Once the back door shuts behind Dean and Benny, the queen grabs Cas’s hand and leads him into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea?”

“That would be fine, thank you,” Cas says, taking a seat when she gestures at a small table in the crowded kitchen. 

“I’m Charlie, by the way.” A pitcher comes out of the fridge and Cas watches her pour two glasses. “It’s already sweet, but I have more sugar if you need it.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Cas says. 

Charlie brings over the two glasses and sits next to Cas, pulling a leg up onto the chair. “Do you need me to help you get away? Cuz look, Cas, me and Dean go way back, but that was before he went and  _ bought  _ someone —” 

“It’s not like that,” Cas interrupts. “I like being with Dean.” 

“Are you sure? Not even Dean knows all my secrets. If I can’t get you back home, I can get you somewhere better.” 

“‘’Home’? That’s not — home is — not where I was born.” 

Charlie’s intensity lowers a bit, her mouth turning into a sly almost-smile. “Does that mean you  _ like _ him?”

Cas flushes and can’t come up with something to say other than, “Yes.” 

“He’s pretty sweet on you,” she says, her smile turning into a grin. “I swear, he comes out to visit me only to mope around like a lovesick puppy.” 

It takes a moment for Cas to find a response, and he settles on, “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

They both turn as the back door cracks open and Benny peeks in. “It’s hot as Hades out here, your highness.”

“Fine. Come in, assholes, but you’re making your own damn tea.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows at Cas when he comes in, and Cas smiles. Dean moves around Charlie’s kitchen with the ease of a good friend, pouring a glass for Benny and then himself, dumping in extra sugar because they’re both Düqi boys through-and-through. 

“So,” Charlie says, once Dean and Benny have joined them at the table, “I think I’ve solved this mating problem.” 

Cas’s hand tightens around his glass. “What problem is that, exactly?” 

Charlie glances sharply between him and Dean. “The problem of how to fake it without anyone knowing. Obvs you’ll have to go through with the ceremony, but I’m pretty sure I’ve whipped something up that will stop the bond from taking entirely. And then we can glamor it, which is no sweat.” 

“The queen can glamor anything in her sleep,” Dean says to Cas with a grin. “How’s it going to work?” 

Charlie’s face breaks out into a huge, mischievous smile. “I never thought you’d ask.” 

As soon as they’re alone in their bedroom, Dean says, “What did Charlie say to you?” 

“Hmm?” Cas realizes he’s been staring at his ring and looks up at Dean instead, then double-takes because Dean is glimmering like nightmare magic. 

Lowering his voice further — darker — Dean says,  _ “What did she say to you?”  _

Cas doesn’t mean to do it, but he takes a quick step back, bumping into the dresser. “She asked if I was all right.” 

“And?”

“And I’m beginning to think I should have answered differently. You don’t get to bully me, Dean. You already have what you want.” 

Dean has the gall to look surprised, then chagrined, and the air goes back to being thick with summer heat and not kinetic magic. “I’m trying to do right by you, ok? The best I can. But now you’re pissed, and it musta been Charlie, because you weren’t pissed this morning.” 

“I’m not angry,” Cas says, turning to blindly grab a pair of sweats out of a messy drawer. “The queen is a delight.” 

Dean sits on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands, and suddenly he sounds small. “Aren’t you happy? You don’t have to mate me for real.” 

“I’m sure it’s much more convenient for you.” Cas changes without looking at him and lays down in bed, facing away. “Congratulations on your fake mating.” 

“Cas —” 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

Cas wakes up in the middle of the night with Dean pressed up against him, a heavy arm draped over his hip. Dean’s shining with magic, but not the yellow thunder-warning of a nightmare. Something softer and sweeter. Something warmer. 

Cas closes his eyes and pretends that Dean  _ wants _ to mate him, scars on their palms and bonding magic in their veins, pretends they kissed each other to sleep the night before. Dean shines brighter and presses closer, nestling under Cas’s chin in his sleep. 

Cas knows he should be relieved. He expected to be. He didn’t ask to be here, in bed with the prince, held prisoner by a ring. He didn’t ask to leave home, learn a new language, spend a decade being passed from dragon to dragon. 

But here he is, with Dean, Dean’s horns bumped up against his jaw, and Cas is aching to be wanted. Aching to be someone other than a friend. 

Dean mumbles something unintelligible and squeezes Cas closer. Cas squeezes back, running a hand up and down Dean’s back, thinking about kisses and machines assembling. 

The second time Cas wakes, the sun is filtering through the curtains and Dean is rolling away, tense and dark-scaled. “Sorry,” he says, not looking at Cas. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Dean gives the ceiling a self-deprecating smile. “I know you don’t mean that. God, I fucked up.” 

“You didn’t.” The sunrise must make him loose-lipped because he says, “I like it.” 

“I meant — I — you kissed me. And my dumb ass thought maybe you meant it.” 

Cas stares at Dean’s profile. He’s so beautiful and Cas  _ wants.  _ “I meant it. I don’t want to fake-mate you.” 

Dean takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes. “I won’t make you. I couldn’t.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Cas says. “I don’t want it to be  _ fake.”  _

All the lights flicker on and then off, and Dean looks over grudgingly, like he expects Cas to be mocking him. “You want to be bonded to me?” 

“Yes.” 

The glass of water on Dean’s bedside table shatters, but neither of them look at it. Dean’s voice is very quiet. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

“Me too,” Dean whispers. 

Cas reaches out to touch his hand, weave their fingers together. “Then why wouldn’t we?” 

“Because you’ll change your mind, and — and breaking the bond is horrible.” 

“Dean, you are infuriating. Do  _ you  _ plan on changing your mind?” 

“No way.” 

“I won’t be changing my mind, either,” Cas says, then shifts closer, close enough for a kiss, though he doesn’t close the last few inches between them, “so why wouldn’t we do it for real?” 

Dean blinks eyes glowing with magic. “Even if I don’t want to — you know, fuck.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. “You can barely say it. I certainly wouldn’t expect you to suddenly decide you want to actually do it.” 

Dean smiles and leans forward, presses his mouth morning-quiet and dawn-soft to Cas’s in a slow, lingering kiss. It takes a lot of bravery, but Cas says, “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” 

On the other side of the room, books start spinning lazily in the air. 

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/635682738642518016/reckless-not-reason-on-ao3-ace-prince-dean)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


End file.
